


Five Breems

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Smokescreen lost track of time, but Ratchet reminds him of the options still available to them.





	Five Breems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaslight Dreamer (wyntirrose)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/gifts).



> Originally a little tumblr gift ficlet that I decided to clean up and post here.

            A soft knock caught Smokescreen’s attention. He raised his head and blinked dazedly at the mech standing in the doorway.       

            “Ratchet. Hey, sweetspark, what do you need?” Smokescreen asked, dropping his stylus to the desk surface. He moved his head from side to side, making the cables in his neck stretch pleasantly after being in the same position for too long. His sensory panels were just as sore and he fanned them out behind him, hinges aching.

            “Don’t really _need_ anything…” Ratchet said, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him. Once it closed, he made his way across the room and behind Smokescreen’s chair. Deft medic hands grabbed Smokescreen’s left doorwing and gently arched it up and then out until it trembled in Ratchet’s grasp. He repeated the maneuver on the opposite panel, making Smokescreen groan in pleasure. Once Ratchet had finished, both panels fell limp against Smokescreen’s back, much of the tension relieved.  

            “…but I would love to actually keep a date for once,” Ratchet remarked, coming to the side of the desk. He gently pushed a stack of datapads over and propped one hip on the table’s edge, gazing down at Smokescreen with a fond smile.

            Smokescreen furrowed his orbital ridges and checked his appointment calendar. Then he shot upright, making Ratchet jerk back in surprise.

            “Holy slag! Ratch, I’m so sorry. I set an alarm, but it didn’t go off. Why didn’t you ping me? There’s barely five breems left in this shift!” Smokescreen exclaimed, hurriedly flipping off his open file and dropping it on top of the stack. His sensory panels waved behind him in an agitated flutter. 

            “I did. Three times. Then I figured you were in patient headspace and just weren’t registering them,” Ratchet replied. He reached out and laid hands on Smokescreen’s waist, tugging him close. “Hey, calm down. We can do a lot in five breems.”

            Smokescreen groaned and dropped his forehelm on Ratchet’s shoulder. Ratchet was right. Three pings, all of which Smokescreen had subconsciously shunted aside to be queued. “Two weeks. Two weeks before we’re off duty together again and this is what I do!”

            “It’s not like I haven’t done it to you. You get caught up, especially if it’s an interesting case,” Ratchet commented reassuringly. He slid his hands around to Smokescreen’s lower back, petting the plating there.

            “Yeah,” Smokescreen grumbled, rubbing his face against Ratchet’s shoulder. “But you’re way more interesting.”

            Ratchet chuckled, fingers kneading Smokescreen’s armor. Thumbs trailed along Smokescreen’s side seems as Ratchet’s hands slid upwards. It felt so good that Smokescreen wanted to melt against the other mech. What had he ever done to deserve someone like Ratchet? Smokscreen knew Ratchet had been looking forward to this time together and he was being so understanding!

            “Thank you. Now do you want to complain some more? Or do you want to make use of the time we have left?” Ratchet asked, the digits of his left hand flirting with the sensitive underside of Smokescreen’s bumper

            Smokescreen abruptly drew back, gazing into Ratchet’s face. “Did you lock the door?”

            Ratchet blinked in confusion before his expression turned sly. “No. But that’s an easy enough fix. And then I can frag you up against it, if you’re up to it.”

            Well. That certainly sounded like a satisfactory way to spend the next five breems, in Smokescreen’s opinion.  

 

~ End 


End file.
